The Death of Self-Consciousness


The mirror has not been kind to me

Reflecting back what I don’t want to see.

Where I am trapped when I feel free,

Locked inside the cage, when I see the key.

I leave my body. I go away.

Sometimes for an hour, perhaps a day.

Where nothingness is everything.

Where my heart can’t talk, but my head can sing.

Lust can linger, greed can ferment.

Where I am crowned the most magnificent.

Whatever it takes to sate the pain I sense

Darker than the need for love or sex or violence.

This humanity has cast a spell on me.

I am wholly at its whim.

I rise above only to drown in the tide.

I see the thing I cannot take away or hide.

The thump, the soul; the pull, the hole.

A perfect dichotomy.

The waking life a dream,

The dream a death,

When plagued by self-consciousness.

So be it all,

The greatness and the fall.

No longer squelched.

No longer condemned.

At last, the end, amen.

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